I've done some stupid stuff. We all know this. It's kind of what makes me quirky and charming. No doubt it probably knocks several decades off my life expectancy, but let's just focus on quirky and charming.
I ran out of gas on my way home from class yesterday. This moment was a long time coming, since I generally don't put more than five dollars worth of gas in my car at a time, and the gas light is warning me on quite a consistent basis. But here's where the situation gets sticky...
I have to drive over a large hill (I don't know why everyone calls it a "hill," because for all intents and purposes, it's mountain-sized) every day. Going up the hill, when I'm on an incline, the gas light is always on, because of the way the gauge is set up in my tank. On the way downhill, the gauge always says I have more than I do. One may think that these variables are easy to take into consideration and work around, but believe me, sometimes laziness/stupidity will catch up with you. My incompetence came and bit me on the ass halfway up Laurel Canyon, when I finally ran out of gas. What do you do when you run out of gas? Pull over, obviously, but then what? I wanted to call someone and have them come help me, but I would have felt like a huge dumbass. Not like walking all the way over the hill to a gas station and explaining the situation would be any better, but at least the gas station attendant wouldn't make fun of me for the rest of my life like my friends would. If you work at a gas station, you're in no position to judge. Plus I could just mosey on in, smile, say that I've come to purchase some gasoline for my riding lawn mower, and no one's the wiser.
Walking up a mountain when it's 97 degrees out sucks. Yeah, some might say "well at least it's a dry heat!" To them, I say "Fuck you. It's still 97 degrees no matter how you slice it." It always looks so sexy in movies, when people's cars break down and they have to find the nearest service station for help. Toned bodies glisten with sweat in the sun, while miraculously we witness no pit stains or swamp ass.
I don't know what possessed me to do what I did next. Perhaps it was curiosity. Or maybe temporary insanity brought on by dehydration and chafed thighs. Could have been the fact that I feel safe anywhere I go in LA as long as I see a lot of nice cars around. Whatever the reason, I slowly lifted my left arm, held my hand up towards the road...and stuck my thumb out.
Don't worry. I lived to tell the tale. Not only that, but I got a free tank of gas, and had Mojitos with Andrea Barber. (IMDB her if you must.) It's really a fun story that I'll have to get around to telling one day.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
I wore black sneakers to my Grandpa's funeral
Now seems like as good of time as any to finally write this. Every time I thought the story was over, something else happened. It's epic, really.
I wasn't in a good mood last Tuesday. Not sure why, but I definitely had my grumpy pants on. I was tired and ornery, and decided to just go to bed early. So I did. I keep a picture of my grandparents on my desk, and I looked at it before I went to bed. Something felt off. Wrong.
I got the phone call at 5 am. My aunt was calling. I knew exactly what it was, but I let the phone ring. If she didn't call right back, then it wasn't anything too important, obviously.
She called right back.
My grandpa died that morning.
My first reaction wasn't shock. It wasn't disbelief. It wasn't tears. There really wasn't a first reaction. My aunt was crying, but I don't know if it was because I was so tired, or just had no idea how to react, but I just stayed quiet and calm. Of course, despite the fact that it was 5am, I couldn't go back to bed. Even if I could have gone back to sleep, it just would have felt wrong to. Like...I find out this terrible news and just go back to bed. I went into the living room and turned on the TV. I watched three episodes of Married With Children and finally fell asleep for a little while. That whole morning is just a blur of sleep and tears. I woke up again at 11 and couldn't believe it was so early. It felt like days had gone by since my aunt called, but it wasn't even lunch time.
Telling people was the hardest. I've never lost anyone before, so I'm just not sure what the appropriate behavior is. I decided sleeping all day was the best coping mechanism. Eventually I had to tell my roommates, which was the first time I had to say it out loud. It was hard.
To complicate matters, my grandma just had open-heart surgery the day before. She was doing well in recovery, but how do you tell her that her husband died when just had such an intense procedure? The worst part was probably coming to the realization that she wouldn't be able to go to Grandpa's funeral. We tried to work it out, but the funeral home couldn't hold on to him forever, and recovery from open surgery can take weeks, if not months. I went to work on Thursday, but about ten minutes into the day, I decided that I couldn't wait for the weekend to go home. I got online, bought tickets for the same flight Millie was flying home on (not having to fly back alone made a BIG difference to me), and by midnight, I was back in Detroit.
It was heartbreaking when we went to visit my grandma, because she still didn't know we were having the funeral without her. There was a lot of hostility within the family as to whether or not this was the right thing to do, but what was the alternative? In the end, she gave us her blessing to proceed with the funeral, and when she's feeling better, we'll have a memorial mass that she can attend.
So...the next few days were filled with typical bereavement. The hugs, the crying, the preparations, etc. Sunday was the first night of visitation at the funeral home. I wondered why they gave immediate family an hour before the rest of the people were invited, but it probably has something to do with how emotional everyone gets when you see the body for the first time. You want to be with your family, not trying to explain to your great aunt who you haven't seen since graduation how a person can get a degree in Television. I've never dealt with death before, so this was a new and most unsavory experience. The worst part was going through all of this while my grandma sat alone in a hospital room. She should have been there, and it hurt us all that she couldn't.
On Monday, we went to go visit Grandma before heading to the funeral home for more visiting. (Eight hours at a funeral home, is that normal? It shouldn't be. You really forget that you're even mourning when you're bored out of your mind and starving). I should also mention that the funeral was held in Bad Axe, Michigan. A very small farm community in the Thumb of the state. They are a different breed up there. They don't drive fancy cars and eat at expensive restaurant. They're simple folk, just as you'd expect a farmer to be.
Which is why I wore black sneakers to my Grandpa's funeral.
On the way to the hospital, we got a phone call that my other grandpa, my mom's dad, had a stroke, and that we should prepare for the worst. After the funeral, I went to see my Grandma one more time, before going back to Novi and seeing my other grandpa. When I said goodbye to him, I knew it was the last time, because at this point we all knew he wasn't going to make it much longer. Despite this, I still flew back to LA. What could I do in Michigan? Sit and wait for him to die? I just buried one of my grandparents. I needed a break. I needed to get back to normal, even if it meant flying back to Michigan a few days later.
Sure enough, I got that phone call on Saturday night. Grandpa B had passed. Time to go back home. This time I didn't take a whole week off. I just couldn't. I came home for two days, just for the funeral and burial. I don't know why, but this time around I wasn't as emotional. I think I was emotionally drained. I didn't have it in me anymore to grieve. Of course, that all changed at the funeral. I was fine for the most of it, but then came the part where all of the grandkids took up a rose and put it in a vase. There we were, all 18 of his grandkids, each one sobbing more than the cousin in front of them. My grandma was crying too, as was everyone else in church, as we all put our pink roses in the vase. At the end of the service, my aunt went up front and asked that we pray for the other relatives we have lost as well, and she mentioned my other grandpa. That's when it really hit me. The funerals were only a week apart. Grandpa Balagna died 10 days after Grandpa Ochoa.
Both were military burials, which I think are 100 times harder than a normal one because they play "Taps" and hand the folded flag to a family member.
It was a rough few weeks, that's for sure. But now I'm back in California, kind of employed, and moving on. Both of my grandfathers were sarcastic, funny, and loved to crack wise, and I know that's where I get it from. They lived long, happy lives, and it was just their time to go. The following poem was on the back of the prayer cards at both of their funerals. And yes, it still hurts when I have to say "both."
God saw that you were getting tired
And a cure was not to be,
So he put his arms around you
and whispered come with me.
With tearful eyes we watched you
and saw you fade away,
Although we love you dearly,
we could not make you stay.
A golden heart stopped beating,
hardworking hands at rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us -
He only takes the best.
I wasn't in a good mood last Tuesday. Not sure why, but I definitely had my grumpy pants on. I was tired and ornery, and decided to just go to bed early. So I did. I keep a picture of my grandparents on my desk, and I looked at it before I went to bed. Something felt off. Wrong.
I got the phone call at 5 am. My aunt was calling. I knew exactly what it was, but I let the phone ring. If she didn't call right back, then it wasn't anything too important, obviously.
She called right back.
My grandpa died that morning.
My first reaction wasn't shock. It wasn't disbelief. It wasn't tears. There really wasn't a first reaction. My aunt was crying, but I don't know if it was because I was so tired, or just had no idea how to react, but I just stayed quiet and calm. Of course, despite the fact that it was 5am, I couldn't go back to bed. Even if I could have gone back to sleep, it just would have felt wrong to. Like...I find out this terrible news and just go back to bed. I went into the living room and turned on the TV. I watched three episodes of Married With Children and finally fell asleep for a little while. That whole morning is just a blur of sleep and tears. I woke up again at 11 and couldn't believe it was so early. It felt like days had gone by since my aunt called, but it wasn't even lunch time.
Telling people was the hardest. I've never lost anyone before, so I'm just not sure what the appropriate behavior is. I decided sleeping all day was the best coping mechanism. Eventually I had to tell my roommates, which was the first time I had to say it out loud. It was hard.
To complicate matters, my grandma just had open-heart surgery the day before. She was doing well in recovery, but how do you tell her that her husband died when just had such an intense procedure? The worst part was probably coming to the realization that she wouldn't be able to go to Grandpa's funeral. We tried to work it out, but the funeral home couldn't hold on to him forever, and recovery from open surgery can take weeks, if not months. I went to work on Thursday, but about ten minutes into the day, I decided that I couldn't wait for the weekend to go home. I got online, bought tickets for the same flight Millie was flying home on (not having to fly back alone made a BIG difference to me), and by midnight, I was back in Detroit.
It was heartbreaking when we went to visit my grandma, because she still didn't know we were having the funeral without her. There was a lot of hostility within the family as to whether or not this was the right thing to do, but what was the alternative? In the end, she gave us her blessing to proceed with the funeral, and when she's feeling better, we'll have a memorial mass that she can attend.
So...the next few days were filled with typical bereavement. The hugs, the crying, the preparations, etc. Sunday was the first night of visitation at the funeral home. I wondered why they gave immediate family an hour before the rest of the people were invited, but it probably has something to do with how emotional everyone gets when you see the body for the first time. You want to be with your family, not trying to explain to your great aunt who you haven't seen since graduation how a person can get a degree in Television. I've never dealt with death before, so this was a new and most unsavory experience. The worst part was going through all of this while my grandma sat alone in a hospital room. She should have been there, and it hurt us all that she couldn't.
On Monday, we went to go visit Grandma before heading to the funeral home for more visiting. (Eight hours at a funeral home, is that normal? It shouldn't be. You really forget that you're even mourning when you're bored out of your mind and starving). I should also mention that the funeral was held in Bad Axe, Michigan. A very small farm community in the Thumb of the state. They are a different breed up there. They don't drive fancy cars and eat at expensive restaurant. They're simple folk, just as you'd expect a farmer to be.
Which is why I wore black sneakers to my Grandpa's funeral.
On the way to the hospital, we got a phone call that my other grandpa, my mom's dad, had a stroke, and that we should prepare for the worst. After the funeral, I went to see my Grandma one more time, before going back to Novi and seeing my other grandpa. When I said goodbye to him, I knew it was the last time, because at this point we all knew he wasn't going to make it much longer. Despite this, I still flew back to LA. What could I do in Michigan? Sit and wait for him to die? I just buried one of my grandparents. I needed a break. I needed to get back to normal, even if it meant flying back to Michigan a few days later.
Sure enough, I got that phone call on Saturday night. Grandpa B had passed. Time to go back home. This time I didn't take a whole week off. I just couldn't. I came home for two days, just for the funeral and burial. I don't know why, but this time around I wasn't as emotional. I think I was emotionally drained. I didn't have it in me anymore to grieve. Of course, that all changed at the funeral. I was fine for the most of it, but then came the part where all of the grandkids took up a rose and put it in a vase. There we were, all 18 of his grandkids, each one sobbing more than the cousin in front of them. My grandma was crying too, as was everyone else in church, as we all put our pink roses in the vase. At the end of the service, my aunt went up front and asked that we pray for the other relatives we have lost as well, and she mentioned my other grandpa. That's when it really hit me. The funerals were only a week apart. Grandpa Balagna died 10 days after Grandpa Ochoa.
Both were military burials, which I think are 100 times harder than a normal one because they play "Taps" and hand the folded flag to a family member.
It was a rough few weeks, that's for sure. But now I'm back in California, kind of employed, and moving on. Both of my grandfathers were sarcastic, funny, and loved to crack wise, and I know that's where I get it from. They lived long, happy lives, and it was just their time to go. The following poem was on the back of the prayer cards at both of their funerals. And yes, it still hurts when I have to say "both."
God saw that you were getting tired
And a cure was not to be,
So he put his arms around you
and whispered come with me.
With tearful eyes we watched you
and saw you fade away,
Although we love you dearly,
we could not make you stay.
A golden heart stopped beating,
hardworking hands at rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us -
He only takes the best.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
I'd LOVE to pay my own rent.
I had a life shattering crisis last week and Mike basically had to put me on suicide watch, but I'm better now. The stress of job searching got the better of me, I suppose. I'm well aware of the fact that in this industry I have to start at the bottom and work my way up, but if I want to write and do improv, then what the hell is the point in taking a job that gives me no time for writing and comedy?
I got a call for a job I really want. This happened Friday. I was away from my desk, and as soon as I got the message, I called the lady back. No answer. Called all day yesterday. No answer. Today? No answer. Perhaps she is out of the office because of the holiday? Let's hope.
I also interviewed at Deal or No Deal, but haven't heard back. I would take the job if I got it, but I'm not going to cry if I don't. Also got a call from a new crossword puzzle game show. Finding a job can take time, and considering the leads and interviews I've gotten in only a few weeks, things are going pretty damn well. However, I'm also broke and need to start working. And I need insurance. I've seriously considered quitting both internships and getting a random job just to make money, but I want to continue my ties at Weinstein, especially with my wonderful boss who is responsible for most of the interviews I've gotten. I'll work a few days a week at Weinstein, quit Offspring, and get a part time job for Thurs-Sun.
Mille and Jeff came this weekend! It was lots of fun. Friday night we went to this awesome little bar in Los Feliz and met our friend Maggie. Saturday I had improv (passed! Got accepted to the next level!) and then we went to a cemetery screening. It's pretty much the coolest thing ever. They play movies on a huge screen, similar to Grant Park, only it's in the Hollywood Forever cemetery. The movie was Roman Holiday. Dani would have LOVED the whole experience.
Sunday was DISNEYLAND!!!!!! Tons of fun. Lots of pictures. We rode everything twice. Except for Finding Nemo, which was far too long of a wait. I wouldn't stand in line for 2 hours to go on a real submarine, so I sure as shit won't do it for a pretend one that doesn't even fully submerge. While we were waiting in line for Indiana Jones (my all time favorite Disney ride at any park ever), some small creature flew into my face. I kinda freaked out, you know, since something flew into my face. It then fell down my chest and got stuck in my shirt. And do you wanna know what it was???
A baby bird. An adorable little chirping birdie.
The people around me in line were pissed that I swatted at it. But I didn't know it was a baby bird! If some strange flying creature flew into your fave, what would you do?
Jeff is gone. Millie is here till Thursday. I'm back at work. It's dead today because every other studio and production company has a half day, so I'm just chillin.
Still no internet at home. Hence, no blogs ever.
I got a call for a job I really want. This happened Friday. I was away from my desk, and as soon as I got the message, I called the lady back. No answer. Called all day yesterday. No answer. Today? No answer. Perhaps she is out of the office because of the holiday? Let's hope.
I also interviewed at Deal or No Deal, but haven't heard back. I would take the job if I got it, but I'm not going to cry if I don't. Also got a call from a new crossword puzzle game show. Finding a job can take time, and considering the leads and interviews I've gotten in only a few weeks, things are going pretty damn well. However, I'm also broke and need to start working. And I need insurance. I've seriously considered quitting both internships and getting a random job just to make money, but I want to continue my ties at Weinstein, especially with my wonderful boss who is responsible for most of the interviews I've gotten. I'll work a few days a week at Weinstein, quit Offspring, and get a part time job for Thurs-Sun.
Mille and Jeff came this weekend! It was lots of fun. Friday night we went to this awesome little bar in Los Feliz and met our friend Maggie. Saturday I had improv (passed! Got accepted to the next level!) and then we went to a cemetery screening. It's pretty much the coolest thing ever. They play movies on a huge screen, similar to Grant Park, only it's in the Hollywood Forever cemetery. The movie was Roman Holiday. Dani would have LOVED the whole experience.
Sunday was DISNEYLAND!!!!!! Tons of fun. Lots of pictures. We rode everything twice. Except for Finding Nemo, which was far too long of a wait. I wouldn't stand in line for 2 hours to go on a real submarine, so I sure as shit won't do it for a pretend one that doesn't even fully submerge. While we were waiting in line for Indiana Jones (my all time favorite Disney ride at any park ever), some small creature flew into my face. I kinda freaked out, you know, since something flew into my face. It then fell down my chest and got stuck in my shirt. And do you wanna know what it was???
A baby bird. An adorable little chirping birdie.
The people around me in line were pissed that I swatted at it. But I didn't know it was a baby bird! If some strange flying creature flew into your fave, what would you do?
Jeff is gone. Millie is here till Thursday. I'm back at work. It's dead today because every other studio and production company has a half day, so I'm just chillin.
Still no internet at home. Hence, no blogs ever.
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